


More a Communication Breakdown (than an elevator breakdown)

by DoctorTrekLock



Series: Resolution19 [24]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Binding circle, Footnotes, Gen, M/M, Magic, Shippy or not is dealer's choice, Trapped, a containment circle is /like/ an elevator right?, and what is the difference anyway?, either way they are together forever <3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 11:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19106539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorTrekLock/pseuds/DoctorTrekLock
Summary: There were seven methods of binding angelic or demonic powers. Three of these required a being of higher power intervening. Two only worked on specific days in the cycle of the moon and then only if seventeen or twenty-three rare ingredients, respectively, were assembled. One took the life of the caster and destroyed an area the size of a small Mesopotamian city (and had, thus, never been tested under field conditions).The remaining method was actually quite simple and required only a stick of chalk, fourteen candles, a handful of charcoal dust, eight drops of human blood, and a goat.Crowley could have sworn he had destroyed every mention of the spell after the debacle that was 1327, but apparently not, since he and Aziraphale were currently standing inside a large chalk circle, bereft of the ability to perform even the slightest miracle.Oh, and Aziraphale was mad at him, which just made everything so much worse.





	More a Communication Breakdown (than an elevator breakdown)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Imagine your OTP stuck in an elevator after they’ve had a fight  
> Source: <https://doctortreklock.tumblr.com/post/183325607442/aus-and-prompts-list>  
> Title: "Stuck in a Lift" by Flight of the Conchords
> 
> Originally posted June 5, 2019 on [Tumblr](https://doctortreklock.tumblr.com/post/185391669682/more-a-communication-breakdown-than-an-elevator)

There were seven methods of binding angelic or demonic powers. Three of these required a being of higher power intervening. Two only worked on specific days in the cycle of the moon and then only if seventeen or twenty-three rare ingredients, respectively, were assembled. One took the life of the caster and destroyed an area the size of a small Mesopotamian city (and had, thus, never been tested under field conditions).

The remaining method was actually quite simple and required only a stick of chalk, fourteen candles, a handful of charcoal dust, eight drops of human blood, and a goat.

Crowley could have sworn he had destroyed every mention of the spell after the debacle that was 1327,* but apparently not, since he and Aziraphale were currently standing inside a large chalk circle, bereft of the ability to perform even the slightest miracle.

Oh, and Aziraphale was mad at him, which just made everything so much worse.

"--without even the common decency to telephone ahead! One would think you would have learned something after millennia of dropping by unannounced, but--"

Crowley thought that was all very unfair. Yes, he had spent several millennia being discorporated left and right after sneaking up on the angel, but that had stopped over two thousand years back and had been unheard of since the Arrangement had been established. The last time he had purposefully contacted Aziraphale before showing up at the bookshop had been 1872.**

"--believe the nerve of you some days, Crowley--"

The goat bleated in the corner of the room and started nosing around a discarded paper bag.

Crowley watched the goat absently, a small, cold lump forming in his stomach, and decided he had had quite enough of this now, thank you very much.

"--all the _irresponsible_ things, I mean, _really_ \--"

"You mean _what_ , angel?" Crowley interrupted loudly.*** "What? Because I thought we were--" _friends_ "--getting on just fine. And now I can't even stop by to say hello?"

" _Not when Gabriel's around_ ," Aziraphale hissed.*^

Crowley could feel his mouth form an O of surprise, but didn't say anything. Instead, he looked more closely at Aziraphale. The tightness of his mouth, the paleness of his skin, and the shaking in his fingers that Crowley had attributed to furious, righteous anger didn't look so much like anger anymore. When he met Aziraphale's clear blue eyes, he could instead see the fear that lurked there. The angel's shoulders slumped as he realized what Crowley had found.

Aziraphale was _afraid_.

Aziraphale was afraid for _him_ , _Crowley_. Because the demon had walked into the bookshop moments after Gabriel and Uriel had left and _Aziraphale was afraid for him_.

"Oh," he said quietly, not daring to take his eyes off his angel.

"My dear," Aziraphale started, his voice as gentle as Crowley had ever heard. "I--"

He was interrupted by an only-just-post-pubescent boy letting himself into the back of the New Age crystal shop where Aziraphale and Crowley had found themselves trapped. "Oh! Hi, I mean, Hello, er, Greetings," the boy said in increasing solemnity and decreasing pitch. "I am sure you are both wondering why--"

"No, we're not," Aziraphale snapped, rounding on him. "We're wondering what you have to say that's so damned important that you interrupted a very important conversation we were having."

The boy took a step back. "Er." The goat bleated loudly in alarm and skittered across the room, away from Aziraphale, to lurk behind the boy's legs.

"And," Aziraphale continued without pausing for breath, "what you thought was worth trapping us in a circle, knowing that we're going to get out of here eventually--"

"Statistically speaking, it will even be before you die," Crowley chimed in. It was marvelous to see Aziraphale channeling his fear and anger at someone who wasn't _him_ for a change.

"--Yes, thank you, my dear. What could possibly be worth trapping us, knowing the literal and metaphorical Heaven and Hell that will be visited upon you when we get out?"

The boy wilted visibly. "I'll just, er, go get the olive oil to break the circle, then. And the gin. And sunflower seeds.*^^ I might have to run to the store," he cautioned, looking worried.

"That will be fine," said Aziraphale breezily. The boy blinked in confusion, but Aziraphale didn't look at him, turning instead back to Crowley.

"Now, my dear," he continued as the boy scampered out of the room, his eyes and tone both considerably warmer than they had been moments before. "Where were we?"

\--  
\--

* You pop over to Europe for a beer and a deliciously salty pretzel, just minding your own business, and then somehow find yourself bound in a fancy piece of pavement art (which can really put a damper on your day, let me tell you). If you accidentally set Munich on fire in your escape...well, it could happen to anyone, really.

** Crowley had arrived at Esa Raphael's Ridiculously Expensive Rare Books to find Aziraphale handing the printed telegram back to him and advising him to save his pence, there's a dear, cuppa tea?

*** And if his voice broke slightly in the middle, well, there wasn't an angel, demon, or otherwise who would mention it to him.

*^ If you've never heard an angel hiss, you should hear it sometime. It's somewhere between a snake and an angry goose, with notes of rapidly deflating tire.

*^^ You would think that erasing a chalk circle would be as simple as, well, erasing a chalk circle. You would be wrong. Somehow, these things always seemed to be almost as hard to take apart as they had been to put together.


End file.
